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Sunday, April 13, 2014

4.11.14 Jockeying for Position at North Condors

The surf was small and I figured Pier and Pier adjacent would have very little going on.  I hopped on the beach cruiser and slowed my littoral pace just enough to confirm my suspicions.  I then took the first-time step of going down the ramp at Surfrider to check out Northside in case there was a perfect sandbar/submarine canyon set-up that had somehow formed since the last time I was there and could turn this 1+' swell into overhead barrels.  Natch. Nothing.

I merged back onto the road that would lead me to Harbor and finally settled on paddling out at North Condors.  It was twice the size here as Pier, but the winds being funneled over the 76 would likely make it difficult to catch waves.

But no mattah, I was out there.  My first wave at first glance appeared to resemble a freight train with its lined up architecture and potential for travel.  It chubbed up immediately upon me popping up and I choked up so that my weight was exclusively on the front two-thirds of my 5'4" board.  It was a weird wobbly feeling.  It felt like I was riding a disc.  The speed section I'd hoped for never materialized and I faded out.

Nothing much was coming where I was, so the unexpected water trolley of a current I was on was pleasant.  I fought it when it tried to merge me into a pack of 5 ravenous guys and stayed just south of them.  I missed the first set wave because I was too deep, but I got into the second one...

It started out much like the first, but within two seconds of me standing on it and pleading for entry into its aqueous curves, it let me in.  I did a couple of ginger pumps, not wanting to get too frisky and too far ahead of its plans for me for fear of getting shut down.  I saw the end section and flashed the fins out to no avail.  If the photog on the beach timed his shot well, it would have looked like I was ripping.  A slight slip of his shutter digit would reveal my ugly truth...

The wind shifted straight onshore and it got textured and a bit bumpy out there.  After my left, I was content with being pretty close to the north jetty, or as I call the spot, Avalanches (an homage to when I lived in OB).

A couple of guys apparently couldn't take the conditions shift and bailed.  I paddled back south and after twenty minutes of no waves finally got a short one, on which I did a nice smack off the lip.

No other memorable waves came and I went in.

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